I Carry Your Heart
by Galxychld
Summary: Stella and Mac's thoughts in certain scenes from Grounds for Deception. And yes, it is definitely SMACKed! :


**Summary: Stella and Mac's thoughts at certain moments in "Grounds for Deception" **

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of them, because if I did, Mac and Stella would soooo have admitted how they feel about each other already! They belong to CBS and Bruckheimer and anyone else involved in that. I'm just borrowing them and will put them back safe and sound when I'm done. ******

**Author's Note: I loved these two moments in "Grounds for Deception" (BTW, the absolute MOST AWESOME CSI:NY episode ever for all Mac and Stella fans! How many times did you watch that hug scene and coffee grounds reading scene? Come on, be honest!) and decided I wanted to write what I thought Stella and Mac would be thinking in those scenes. I did use the actual lines in here, because they were so good. I think they're not too OOC, Stella especially, so please enjoy! Oh, and thanks to Traci for the idea at the beginning. **

**I Carry Your Heart**

**Stella**

"Hi," he had said as I came up to him, as if seeing him here in Greece was the most normal thing in the world. I could only reply with a simple, yet quite surprised, "Hi" myself. I had to forcibly shove aside my confusion at seeing Mac to deal with the museum representative. I was glad Mac told them that we were working together, because his appearance had robbed me of my ability to think coherently.

After we left the museum, we walked for a minute, the warm Greek sun pouring liquid light on my shoulders. I could still hardly believe that Mac was here with me. The last time we'd talked, back in New York, we'd had one royal blow-up of a fight and I'd slammed my badge down on his desk. I never in my wildest dreams imagined that he would come after me. OK, so that's not entirely accurate. In one corner of my heart, the part buried deep inside that was entirely tuned to Mac, there had been a tiny glimmer of hope that he would find a way to support me. But the larger part of me was still in a state of shock from seeing him at the steps of the museum.

I started to stammer out an explanation of my actions in the last few months.

"I'm sorry that I made it difficult for you and the department."

Mac stopped and turned to face me.

"This isn't about my job or the department." He whipped off his sunglasses so that I could see deep into his intense eyes.

"It was difficult because I care about you."

For one shocked moment, my mind whirled as I stood caught by the roiling emotions clearly displayed as Mac's eyes locked fiercely on my own, those same emotions turning his eyes from their normal soft blue to a stormy deeper color. He cared. My God, he cared about me. Enough to overlook my job-quitting temper tantrum, enough to get on a plane for _me_, to come after _me_, enough to defend me to the Greek authorities, enough to let down his guard and confess feelings that were deeper than I'd known. I mean, I know that Mac cares about me; he is my best friend. But not like this. Not this much. Not this way. A million things lodged in my throat, and all I could get out was an inane, if heartfelt, "Thank you."

I wanted to sink down and hide from the inadequacy of that response, especially after what Mac said, but instead I faced him squarely, begging him silently to understand that I heard what he said and I know what he meant, and how much his words touched my heart. He crinkled his eyes slightly before he continued talking, and I knew that my unspoken message got to him. And at that moment, in spite of everything going on and my own confusing mess of emotions, one thing stood out. Mac was here, for me, and…my world was now centered. I would never be alone.

* * * * * * *

**Mac**

Stella smiled as she gently fingered her badge before looking up at me and taking a deep breath.

"You know, I don't need coffee grounds to see how lucky I am to have you in my life, Mac."

Stella's words hit me hard. The emotions in her voice and the look in her gorgeous green eyes were so powerful that I almost felt I was drowning in them. I knew objectively how dear a friend she was to me, and how much we depended on each other. The key word was _objectively_. But this…this was so much more. Stella was one of the strongest and most independent people I'd ever known. In spite of her reaction to my arrival in Greece, in spite of how she'd clung to me after the professor had been killed, I still hadn't known until right now how much she depended on me. It was almost too overwhelming. So I did what I usually do when confronted with too much personal emotion. I smiled, deflected, and reached for Stella's coffee cup to try and lighten the mood.

She slid closer to me, her laughter soft in my ears as she said, "See, there you go, see that right there? That's an S. That would be Stella, the woman in your life who sometimes you adore and sometimes she drives you crazy." Her hand rested on my back as she laughed again, and her delicate touch felt almost scorching to my sensitized nerves.

Yes, she sometimes drove me crazy, sometimes made me angry with her impassioned words and ideas and the way she often neglected her own well-being to do the right thing. However, it also, as she said, made me adore her. She was so strong, so determined and dedicated to bringing justice for those who needed it. She could have ended up beaten down and bitter by the way she grew up, as happened to many a man and woman I'd seen over the years in circumstances similar to her, but she wasn't. She is a survivor, and what is more, I think she is an optimist. Everything she went through as a child, everything that has happened to her as an adult, and she still believes in good over evil, right over wrong, compassion over revenge. After I lost Claire on 9/11, Stella was the only thing that kept me from spiraling down into bitterness and despair. Even the job wouldn't have been enough, I know that, but she was. Stella was enough.

I realized then, as she joked with me over coffee grounds and then sighed as I gently drew her into a one-armed hug, that I didn't adore her. It was so much more than that. She was my rock, my strength, and the only person in the world with whom I could truly be myself. She was that e.e. cummings poem for me: _Here is the deepest secret nobody knows…and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart…I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart_.

I don't know if Stella knows, but I am sure, in this moment, that Stella holds my heart in hers. It's no wonder now why the others didn't work out for me. Our hearts are wrapped up in each other. And while now may not be the best time to let her know this, and while I know we need to take it slow for both our sakes, this one thing is certain. One day soon, I will be able to tell her the truth that is crystal clear for me. All my love is hers, whenever she wants it. She holds my heart, and it is hers. Forever.

The End


End file.
